Monsters and Devils and Demons
by gottabefree
Summary: For Tony Stark was like gold- he was colourful and lit up a room when he wanted, obviously he was expensive, but also weak, so weak. And so effortlessly broken, melting easily from the hot experiences in his past. Maybe he'd decorate the room with his dazzling wit and no one would look through his exterior to reveal his flaws. One-shot. Rated M to be safe.


The pain in his chest wasn't from the arc reactor. It was more psychological than that. It was a weight pressing down on his chest and at times he couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't _think_. Only feel as the strange weight pulled down on his metaphorical heart, leaving it to sink through his lungs and rest on his diaphragm and he knew it was only the small hope of Pepper that kept it falling any further, but it his fail-safe mechanism of coping was flawed and cracks in his hope of her continuing love for him were weakening his fragile hope of escape. If he concentrated any harder on the strange numbness spreading though him, he'd simply forget to _be_. He'd lose himself to the swirling demons that were weighing him down and he'd tumble inside himself and become a ghost of the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist he was as his oh-so-clever mind warped his reality until his illusions and reality were one and he was lost forever.

And sometimes, the only way to survive, to _be_, was to laugh. It was either laugh or cry and he chose laugh every time. Sometimes he laughed until he cried or he laughed as others cried and sometimes, when control was slipping, he laughed to cover up his crying. But either way it was laughter or tears. Like yin and yang the pair belonged together, never fair apart where Tony Stark was concerned. If only every pair could be like that. And sometimes he'd begin to laugh and pause, laughter wavering off into the distance as he remembered -oh god he _remembered- _but rather than explain, his smart-ass mouth would be off again, saving and condemning him at once with cheap words and golden assertions.

For Tony Stark was like gold- he was colourful and lit up a room when he wanted, obviously he was expensive, but also weak, so weak. And so effortlessly broken, melting easily from the hot experiences in his past. Maybe he'd decorate the room with his dazzling wit and no one would look through his exterior to reveal his flaws.

The team would notice sometimes, catch glimpses of the pain and terror and anguish and grief that were fleetingly visible in his dark, dark eyes if he stayed still for too long. Little things, like his constant need to keep himself occupied before the dark, devilish thoughts could rise up and suck him back down, down to his diaphragm where the weight still lay. His needs may seem irrational to them (no baths or pools or ponds anywhere on any form of his property) but they all had their own weaknesses, own past experiences that still haunted them in everyday objects. No one mentioned it and Tony Stark was grateful, he really was, but he still hated, _hated,_ how even that was revealing chinks in his I'm-such-a-badass-and-I-don't-give-a-shit armor. Because he knew that the Iron Man suit was just a physical armor against the monsters that followed him all day every day.

And sometimes, like now, he'd escape by drinking and drinking until all you had to do was put a lit match to his mouth and he'd breathe fire, become as strong as dragons. He'd passed the rowdy, charming stage, battled through the dark, brooding stage and got to where he was now: the stage where living seemed effortless again and thoughts swam lazily through his brain, randomly stating that he could tackle the monsters and devils and demons and he could win and be free and just be back with Pepps again. But even in those glorious moments when the room didn't seem so dark and oppressing and the world was back to making sense and he was Tony Stark the unbeatable once more, he knew deep in the back of his brilliant brain that, it wasn't real, the monsters and devils and demons could not be tackled, there was no such thing as freedom and Pepps had left long ago without a backwards glance. And mostly, he knew as his speech slurred and his movements slowed, that Tony Stark had been beaten a long time ago and yes he was unbeatable but only because there was nothing left to beat.

And sometimes he'd wonder if it was worth going through this void alone. Battles with the Avengers were the only thing keeping him going. The recklessness that was Tony Stark was becoming uncontrollable, crazy, suicidal almost. But no, Tony Stark wouldn't kill himself because he had too much to live for right?

Wrong. But even as one part of his alcohol-soaked mind contemplated ways to go out as an accident (suit malfunctioning- fall from great height? Experiment gone wrong- explosion in the lab? The Hulk- accidental crushing?), another part was quickly countering the ideas (JARVIS would save me, warn the others of the truth; I still have pride. If my one redeeming quality is being a genius, no way am I going out due to my own stupidity; I can't let Bruce have my death on his conscience) and Tony Stark knew that part was Pepper Potts, that at least a sliver of his brain had dedicated itself to her in her absence, preventing him from probing and dissecting his weaknesses until a foolproof plan of surrender announced itself, because of course Tony Stark the genius can solve any problem given enough time. He liked to think that that small part of him that wanted him to keep going, to keep struggling through the marsh, to swim to the surface and soar into the sky, he liked to think that part was all Pepps. That she was still with him even in death.

And she had always believed he was unselfish, that he would do the right thing and make the choice which showed his true colors, the ones painted with selflessness, responsibility and love. And every time it's these thoughts that persuade Tony Stark to put down the alcohol and pick up his life. Because even though living without Pepper is unbearable and constantly torments him and makes him bleed with the sheer pain, he's keeping that small part of his mind that's Pepper personified happy and if that's the closest he can get to keeping his Pepper happy, well he's damn well going to do it.


End file.
